The mountain didn’t make a sound when it happened. There was no grand echo to mark the moment, no sympathetic rumble from the…
The wind that came off the Atlantic that morning had teeth. It wasn’t a breeze; it was a hard, scouring force that snapped…
The steady, guttural rumble of the Harley-Davidson cut a deep groove through the evening quiet of Main Street. Rain, fine and persistent, fell…
The rain wasn’t just falling; it was a presence, a weight. It pressed down on the bill of Captain Rain Kesler’s patrol cap,…
The world, for Harold Brener, had mostly shrunk to the size of quiet routines. At sixty-eight, he moved through it like a man…
The world smelled of pine and ancient dust. It was a scent that had woven itself into the fabric of Earl Mat’s life,…
The hum was the first thing you noticed. A low, persistent drone from the fluorescent lights that bled a sterile, colorless glow onto…
The voice, sharp as a shard of glass and laced with a disbelief that bordered on contempt, sliced through the cavernous hum of…
The command came slicked with the easy arrogance of unearned authority, a casual dismissal wrapped in a term of endearment that was anything…
The wind that swept in from the Pacific always carried weight. It wasn’t a loud wind, not a violent one that tore at…